


Reverie

by tenuous_pteradatyl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Daydreaming, Fantasizing, Groping, Guilt, Guilt Trip, Kissing, M/M, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenuous_pteradatyl/pseuds/tenuous_pteradatyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo daydreams, and McCree makes a move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverie

Given the chance, when the cacophony of gunfire had ceased, and he had returned to the stillness of his rooms, Hanzo was given to daydream. It seemed only fitting for someone who was always in his own head. Some days he thought of the past running scenarios over and over in his head on an endless loop. What would have happened had he stayed in Hanamura, what if he hadn’t been ordered to kill Genji, what if he hadn’t gone through with it, what if Genji was the eldest and given the task what would he have done. He thought like that for endless hours sometimes long into the night with only the quiet murmurs of his teammates in the corridor, and soft songs of the birds keeping him rooted to the present. Many times he had thought of how things could be different, on how they should be different, if it were left to him he would’ve spared Genji, never struck the first blow, never left him gasping for air, blood staining the floor of the castle a carnelian shade. He would’ve let Genji live, and they could’ve ruled together, but fate had other plans for them. Genji had lived and continued his existence as a strange amalgamation of man and machine, as for him he apparently was meant to join Overwatch. 

He still questioned it at times why he did it, perhaps as some ill-advised way to redeem himself, maybe it was at his brother’s insistence, or maybe it was simple boredom, even now having spent a few months among them he couldn’t truly answer the question. On a certain level he was grateful that the work left him less time to brood on past transgressions and lately, his new profession had given him a myriad of other things to think about. The burgeoning amicable relationship between him and his brother, missions, training. But there was also something else on his mind. Something that had been on his mind for more time than he cared to admit, flitting in and out his thoughts like the damnable smoke of his cigarillos was Jesse McCree. There was no reason for it, he reasoned to himself they had not even had many interactions with each other they had not even had a formal introduction. 

The first meeting had happened a few weeks ago, barely off the plane and nerves still on edge from jetlag he had been thrown quickly into the fray of battle. He had seen the flash of steel, and then the deep hues of red coloring the trademarked sarape as the gunslinger had faced off against omnics atop a roof. He had been looking in the opposite direction, his keen eyes trained on taking out a smaller target he only turned when he had heard a cry cut short, and a thud with the tinny tones of metal connecting with the ground. He loosed several arrows at the omnic that loomed over the man, a behemoth who cast a long shadow across the battlefield. It was easily dealt with, and he had thought nothing of it at the time merely part of his duty to keep his team safe. It was only that night as he walked down the well-lit corridor to his room that he was reminded of it. McCree had been waiting for him poised by the door to his room, leaned up against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, a cigarillo caught between his teeth. 

Hanzo hadn’t thought much of it “Was there something you needed?”, he asked somewhat hesitantly he was almost anticipating bad news, bracing himself for some kind of impact. But none came, McCree simply replied “Naw, that ain’t it. Just wanted to say I’m much obliged that you saved my hide out in the field today, thanks, Hanzo”, he said with a tip of his hat, flashing a warm smile. Hanzo didn’t say anything he couldn’t. For the first time in so long the endless mantra, that low pulse of guilt seemed to put itself out. It wasn’t just the sincere gratitude it was the man himself, all untamed wilderness, broad-shouldered, unkempt hair, and warm smile that left him desperately looking for something appropriate to say. After another long pause he finally regained his composure he bowed stiffly at the waist “It was nothing”, he said feeling somewhat foolish “It is my duty to protect my allies”.

“Hm, just allies huh?”, Mcree asked all honey toned, and teasing. Hanzo fought back the sudden urge to kick the man in the shin “Yes allies”, Hanzo repeated “Well goodnight”, he said as he pushed past the other man still pressed up against the wall, cigarillo still between his teeth. That’s how it had begun, now whether he willed it or not Mcree was in, and out of his thoughts. It didn’t help things that McCree took the room right next to his, nor did it help that the man wasn’t bad company, that his looks were rugged, or that he was irrevocably charming. Hanzo secretly observed him at every available moment, admired his casual grace, his ability to talk to anyone moving from person to person and subject to subject with such ease, he admired his laugh, his smiles that too often turned to overly toothy grins, and the way he fired his gun infrequent lack of finesse made up for in precision and kills. There were too many things to admire, too many things that he found endearing, too many, and all of them ran endlessly through his head unbidden, and at times unwanted.

Daydreams would creep in on him like thieves in the night brutal in how good they made him feel, savage in that he could never fully indulge them. They began simply, a pet name, a brush of the hand on his bared shoulder, being wrapped in the deep crimson of his sarape brought into a kiss that threw him off in all the best ways. Differing levels of domesticity; Mcree bringing him tea with a cheerful smile, kissing him on the forehead as he trudged off to the shower “Hang on a minute sweetheart just gotta get cleaned up”. At times it was unbearable at others, it helped to soothe him, and those were the times when he desperately wished he were cradling the real man in his arms and not just the figment in his head. 

Despite his suffering he made no attempts to get the real thing, there were too many variables, too many old pains still left unattended, too many things he couldn’t forgive himself for. So instead he sentenced himself to a cruel existence of nightly fantasies. He replayed them in his head like some kind of tape doomed to repetition. How he would come up to McCree seize him by his sarape pull him in close so he could smell the wilderness on him, kiss, bite, claim. Each scenario was different sometimes McCree was cool taking the onslaught of pleasure like he’d dealt with it a thousand times, other times he was a mess, moaning, clawing at his back, coming completely undone. Each fantasy was different locations would change, time of day, dialogue, he would change. Sometimes battling the desire to totally submit or fight, other times taking what he craved, teasing McCree until he was begging on the floor for release. Often times he would think of his voice all warm and slightly teasing like he imagined the real man might be given the chance, trying to seduce him solely by ear. He suffered like that for weeks trying to abate the need for the other man through fantasies, trying to starve out the lust through sheer will power, and guilt trips. Telling himself endlessly that he didn’t deserve any more than what he already had, but it seemed everywhere he went there was no respite, no escape from the gunslinger.

Like a shadow, the man and the smoke from his cigarillos seemed to follow Hanzo everywhere he went. Hours after a briefing he could still smell it on him. It enveloped him, and conjured images of strong arms coming around him, of a smooth and smoky voice in his ear, it reminded him of dark keen eyes and warm smiles. McCree weaved in, and out his mind just like that smoke. He decided the best thing to do would be to try to put all thoughts of the cowboy out of his head. For 2 long weeks, he succeeded he meditated, trained himself to the point of exhaustion, threw himself completely into every mission he was assigned, things went smoothly until the third week when he was walking back to his room to find McCree coming towards him. McCree saw him and smiled that incredibly charming yet infuriating smile “Howdy”, he said, once again tipping his hat. Hanzo wasn’t sure why, but he found that ridiculously endearing “Forget about it”, he told himself as he made his way wordlessly to his door.

“What, no hello?”, McCree asked almost teasingly behind him. “I have no reason to speak to you”, he shot back much harsher than he would’ve liked. “Other than being polite?”, the cowboy asked leaning against the wall. Hanzo stared at him his mouth set into the firm line of a frown “He is truly infuriating”, Hanzo thought grimly as McCree continued to stand there somehow looking effortlessly attractive. Hanzo finally looked away hoping the other man wouldn’t notice the blush that had sprung up on his cheeks he gave a stilted “My apologies”, and retreated into the utilitarian space of his room. He stood at the door, hand still on the knob and listened for McCree’s footsteps as he finally made his way down the hall. “Ridiculous”, he thought as he jerkily walked to his bed and laid down feeling completely off kilter, there was no reason to feel this way he reasoned, he had no right, instead he indulged in a well-worn fantasy of him, and McCree in the shower all tawny, and well muscled his hands slippery with soap roaming over his body, his voice hot in his ear and breathing deep the lingering scent of cigarillo smoke.

On the fourth week things take a turn. Hanzo was training at the firing range and inexplicably McCree appeared, the familiar scent of smoke, pine, and earthiness heady in the air. It unnerves Hanzo, it feels as though McCree’s sharp eyes are on him, roving over every part of his body. He feels trapped, uncertain, aroused, and out of control. Finally, he barks out “Why are you here?”. McCree takes a moment to reply, but when he does it’s with a smirk tugging at his lips “Just enjoying the view”, he says simply. Hanzo can only glare back in stunned silence he’s not sure if he’s simply referring to the view of the ocean below the shooting range, if he’s referring to him, or if he’s just teasing, all he knows is that he’s had enough. He brusquely pushes past McCree without a word, and makes his way to his room, and proceeds to hole himself up there for the next few hours. Genji comes by later, “With his omnic shadow no doubt”, he thinks sullenly. Genji tries and fails to get him to come to dinner, and after a few more minutes of banter through the door finally leaves. Hanzo is glad for it, he needs time with his thoughts. McCree evokes feelings that he hasn’t felt for a long time; feelings of want, desire, perhaps even love. 

Things he thought he gave up the right to feel, things he had almost forgotten, things he wished he could forget, he doesn’t want to feel this way, he can’t help but feel this way, he misses something this simple. He stays in that same loop for a long time, agonized, sick with guilt, conflicted. He feels so much remorse that it’s become a physical pain in his gut that leaves him stretched out, limbs limp, devoid of strength, totally beside himself with grief and wishing he had never met the man. He has no right to happiness, to kindness, even the kindness that his brother has shown him thus far only serves to make him feel more ashamed, more unworthy. He doesn’t deserve whatever McCree could offer him if he would even be willing to. He thinks of pursuing things and can only think of disastrous outcomes. But what if he did try? What if he did speak with McCree? What if he felt the same way? What if his past fantasies were more than just feverish daydreams, and nightly reveries? “It would not happen”, he thinks, but even as he does his resolve is rapidly weakening, if things can’t be as he wants them why not indulge the fantasy again? His thoughts stray back to their brief encounter in the hallway he reaches for the door. But instead of merely escaping to the cold austere confines of his room he finds himself pulled into a tight embrace, that same scent of smoke and rugged wilderness washing over him, as that damnable voice rumbles in his ear “Naw, we ain’t done yet”, it says.

“We have nothing more to discuss”, he would say, even in his own fantasy he somehow manages to resist. “I don’t think so darlin’ I been watching you. How you saved me, how you use that bow” a hand comes to rest on his shoulder tracing the lines of his tattoo. “Have to say it’s got me all hot under the collar”, he says his hand coming to tweak his exposed nipple, Hanzo jolts from the contact, his hand mirroring the action in the waking world. McCree would continue, his hand trailing down his side the other trying to palm him through the fabric of his pants, not to be undone Hanzo would spin around, almost breathless with anticipation, and pin the other man to the wall thigh planted between McCree’s legs. He would kiss McCree, slow and languid at first, and then urgent, as urgent as the moans the other man was making underneath him, as urgent as his rutting against his thigh was. When they finally come apart McCree’s face is more red than usual, meanwhile Hanzo is breathing so hard he feels like he might pass out, and they’ve barely done anything yet. McCree is the first to speak as usual, “Well damn darlin’, wish I would’ve known sooner”. 

“About what?”, Hanzo asks trying to regain his composure.”About your little crush seems a shame. We could’ve been doing a lot more of this” he says fondly as he pulls Hanzo into his room. From there the dream is a blur, a haze of tangled limbs, and careful caresses. In the waking world Hanzo had slipped his hand between his thighs, and had begun stroking himself until he finally came with a barely muffled moan, and his free hand tightly gripping the sheets of his bed. He felt a wave of conflicted feelings and shame roll over him as he walked off to the bathroom to clean himself off, not since his younger days had he engaged in something like that. He didn’t have as many trysts as his brother, preferring instead as he told Genji multiple times, quality over quantity, to which his brother would simply roll his eyes. Hanzo put those thoughts of the past out his head as he went back into the other room, only to find McCree sitting on his bed. Hanzo felt all the air leave his lungs as he watches him from the doorway of the bathroom, frozen in place. “Nice place”, McCree says looking around, “A might empty though”, he says with a contemplative look on his face. 

“What are you doing here?”, Hanzo says, his voice low and shaking with something akin to rage or desire, he wasn’t sure.

McCree didn’t look perturbed he merely continued “Well funny thing is, these walls here ain’t that thick”. 

For a brief moment Hanzo doesn’t understand. Then it dawns on him and his mouth goes dry, and he is very tempted to push the other man out of his room. He thinks back to the last few nights where he had indulged his fantasies, trying to desperately content himself with a shadow of the real thing, thinking he could live that way, never knowing how things could truly be. He also realizes to his embarrassment that there were some nights that he was not as silent as he had hoped to be, and one night he had even moaned the cowboy’s name. His hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. McCree hasn’t made any moves he’s simply watching him from the comfort of Hanzo’s bed. He speaks up again after a long silence, this time looking almost bashful “It’s weird you know”, he says as Hanzo tries to steady himself. “At first, I thought you were just kinda blowing off steam, but then I heard my name”, Hanzo wants to flee from the room and leave him wondering why. “And then I thought, well damn maybe I ain’t alone in this”, Hanzo looks at him feeling only slightly less confused than before. 

“What do you mean?”, he asks. McCree gets up and takes a few steps forward his pace measured, slow, as if he’s trying to get close to a wild animal. He lays his hands tentatively on Hanzo’s shoulders, thumbs caressing his skin “Well shoot darlin’ you really don’t know?”, he asked, his tone only mildly incredulous, his smile fond. Hanzo just blinks at him before McCree leans down, and kisses him. 

“Ah, so that is what he meant”, he thinks, only slightly annoyed with himself for being so oblivious he can hear Genji’s voice jokingly chiding him in his head. “Brother you truly couldn’t figure it out? Why do you think he took the room next to your’s?”  
“Silence”, he thinks hotly, as McCree continues to kiss him, that same enticing scent of smoke in his mouth, all around him, it invades and permeates the space around them until finally, Hanzo pushes him away. That same mantra of guilt pulses heavy, and low in his mind tainting the sweetness of what just took place. McCree seems to notice something is wrong “Hey everything alright?”, he asked giving Hanzo a slightly worried look. Hanzo doesn’t say anything for a long moment he feels oddly contemplative after what’s happened he feels better, much better than he had in a long time, probably better than he’ll ever feel again. “I do not deserve this”, he thinks solemnly as he roughly pushes past McCree, and goes to open the door. “What the hell Hanzo?”, he said the poor man actually looks offended. Hanzo feels a sharp sting of guilt, but nothing can seem to quench it. 

“Leave” he spits out, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

“What?” 

“You heard me”, Hanzo rasps feeling extremely fatigued.

“Naw, I didn’t hear you. You can’t just push me out” McCree says looking more hurt than anything.

“I will if you refuse to leave on your own”, Hanzo says, trying to steel himself for the moment when McCree finally tires of his harsh words and leaves. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, McCree comes over and pushes the door closed. “Naw we ain’t done yet”, he says “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” 

Hanzo looks at him, really takes stock of everything about him, trying to memorize the curve of his mouth, the angles of his body, the plane of his chest, he thinks about it and he sighs. Just for a moment, he would like to relieve some of this pain, live in the now, to let go. So he tells him simply “I do not deserve what you can give me.” McCree looks taken aback by his words no doubt anticipating more barbs and vitriol, but certainly not honesty. “What the hell are ya talking about?”, he asks still looking bewildered. “I meant what I said. I do not deserve this”, he says and the realization of his words seem to dawn on McCree as he rubs the back of his neck like he’s been admonished. 

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that”, Hanzo answers bitterly. The entire team knew of his and Genji’s violent conflict, about how he had nearly killed his brother and left him loudly cursing his name with what little breath he had left. How the team managed to greet him as warmly as they did still baffles him. McCree seemed eager to continue “Well, you know no one holds that aga-”. ,  
“Save your pity for someone else”, Hanzo says, putting a hand up to halt him. 

“I don’t pity you”, McCree says simply “I only got respect for ya well that, and some other things too,” he admits. 

“I do not see how.” 

“You fishing for compliments?” 

“What?” 

“Never mind. But I meant what I said I really do admire ya something fierce Hanzo”, he says trying to embrace him again. “I do not see why”, he says blithely “I do not deserve anything after what I’ve done”. 

“Your brother seems to think so”, McCree says. Hanzo gives him a scathing look “Stop that”, he says angrily as he tries to wrestle himself out of McCree’s grip. “Sorry I know touchy subject”, he says “Look I ain’t no saint either. I get it. But don’t ya think maybe it’s time to let yourself live again?” he asks. Hanzo merely looks at him, his eyes roving over his face, alighting on the door and then coming back to rest on the man in front of him. He could fight, he could kick, he could escape, it would be amazingly easy even with McCree’s height. For a moment he feels compelled to attempt it. But instead, he just stands there letting McCree’s simple words play in his mind. More than anything he feels tired, exhausted with everything, with the constant guilt, with holding himself back, with his own self-imposed rigidity, with not just simply taking what he wants. Before he can rethink anything his head comes to loll on McCree’s chest, such a welcome thing. McCree looks down at him curiously.

“Did you take the room next door due to your admiration? Or your respect?”, Hanzo asks as he feels McCree’s arms encircle his waist. “Both”, he answers “Admiration mostly though”, he says his mouth incessantly close to the archer’s ear. Hanzo chuckles low and contemplative, he grabs the back of the gunslinger’s head a rough grip on his hair and kisses him. It’s not the confused and off-kilter endeavor it was before, no, this time, he takes control, its precise, focused intent on one goal. To drive the other man as crazy as he’s been feeling these past few weeks. He backs them up until McCree is flush against the door, Hanzo’s thigh between his legs, his free hand braced on the wall next to his head, caging him in, giving no leeway or room for escape. Not that McCree would want to escape it seems. He’s moaning as if Hanzo was doing far more than kissing him. “Perhaps later”, he thinks as he continues to kiss him feeling the telltale hardness on his thigh, he would smirk if he wasn’t trying to keep the other man from slumping down the expanse of the door. When they finally come apart McCree’s eyes are heavy lidded, and his hair is even more messy than usual. Hanzo feels beyond satisfied with himself that he was able to illicit such a response out of the cowboy. “This hallway”, he says. 

“What?”, rasped McCree, his voice still thick with desire. 

“This hallway”, Hanzo repeated. “Who else lives in this part of the compound?” 

“How do ya not know that by now?”, asks McCree, incredulously. 

“Simply answer the question”.

“Just Lena, Lucio, and Hana. But they’re on a mission”. 

“Excellent”, said Hanzo “We wouldn’t want to disturb them”.


End file.
